


Mend Your Soul

by moony_julymoonlight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Bedside Vigils, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moony_julymoonlight/pseuds/moony_julymoonlight
Summary: A series of bedside vigil encounters lead Harry to reconsider his career. Harry x Hermione. Complete.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 133





	Mend Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything, credit where credit is due to Ms JK Rowling.

Hermione Granger rushed into St. Mungo’s, bumping and colliding into people as she made her way to the front desk. She received many dirty looks from them before they realised it was _Hermione Granger,_ war heroine. 

“I’m here to see Harry Potter. I’m his emergency contact,” she informed the bored-looking medi-witch who snapped her gum at her. 

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that today,” the medi-witch smirked. It rapidly faded when Hermione shoved her Ministry ID at her, tapping her foot. The medi-witch provided her directions and Hermione was off, shoving her way into a discreet door with enough wards to confuse anyone but she wasn’t anyone. 

She was greeted by the sight of a messy-haired wizard was laid on the hospital bed, his right leg covered entirely in bandages. He was also trying to reach for a cup beside his table but could not move far enough without jostling his injured leg. 

Wordlessly, she levitated it towards him and he snatched it out of the air. With a confused look, he regarded the cup and table before noticing her. “Hermione! What are you doing here?” A wide smile appeared on his face as he munched on ice chips. 

Hermione settled into the chair beside the hospital bed, scooting it forward. “What am I doing here? I am your emergency contact! What happened?”

“Oh, um. I kind of encountered a werewolf,” he mumbled quickly. 

“A werewolf,” she repeated, ringing in her ears. In her mind, she envisioned Lupin’s transformation and the terrifying fear that had overtaken her. “Was it a mission?”

“Not exactly,” Harry hesitated, his eyes flickering from the cup to her. “I sort of got distracted from the mission. He was just there at the edge of the forest - we were about to leave. I figured I’d speak to him about the recent killings so I approached him after Ron left but um, he decided to -” he mimed a wagging fist - “you know.” 

She just stared at him. Under her gaze, Harry’s smile disappeared. “It wasn’t a big deal. I mean, they apprehended him and turns out _he_ does have information about the recent killings so-”

“So you getting injured was worth it,” she finished for him. A dull sense of anger was poking at her veins, getting larger and larger until she felt static crackle at her hair. She inhaled deeply, summoning a book from her satchel. 

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his emerald coloured eyes regarding her softly. “I forgot you’re my emergency contact.” 

She leaned forward, brushing his fringe with her fingers and lightly stroking his face, his beard was scratchy against her palm. “You’re my best friend.” Opening her book to her bookmark, she held it up to him. “I’ll read to you. It’s a very fascinating account of the ways injuries caused by werewolves can lead to permanent crippling conditions.” 

“That’s not-” 

With a single look from her, he fell silent, his head on the pillow as she began reading. She had lied, no such book existed but she was angry at him. 

* * *

Not a month later, Hermione swung the door open and was accosted by a sight very familiar to her: Harry was gingerly sitting up in a hospital bed with a blackened eye, his hand placed on his stomach as he winced. 

Overcome with worry, she rushed over to his side. He seemed surprised to see her but smiled, the motion stretched his lips which began to bleed slightly. 

“Can you clear up something for me? I am hearing you went fighting a misshapen demon that was summoned by a group of satanist wizards but I am sure your mission was to confiscate the illegal wolfsbane being stolen from wolves to perform experiments on dragon eggs.” Her voice was deadly, her hands fisted at her sides. 

Giving up his attempt to sit, he collapsed back on the bed, hissing in pain. She picked up a stray strip of gauze, performed a quick sterilization spell and pressed it to his bleeding lip. “Tell me it is not true,” she said, her voice shrill. She caressed his face, rubbing her thumb under the bandaged cut on his eye. 

“It is not true.” 

She pulled the blood-stained gauze away and dumped it in the specified bin before turning to face him again. Her lip kept trembling, she was taking deep breaths as she surveyed him. Scowling, she brushed her thumb against his bandaged knuckle. “Harry - how could you?”

“I confiscated the wolfsbane but Alfred - the smuggler.” Her expression didn’t change so he went on. “He told me about this initiation meeting and I had to stop it. The demon was already there,” his voice was tired - probably not explaining it for the first time. “I stunned the wizards but a stunner didn’t knock it out. So I fought it.” 

“With your bare hands,” she said pointedly, he flinched. “That’s right, you lost _your_ wand and decided to fight _a_ summoned _demon_ with your _bare hands._ ” 

“I know, right?” He grinned. “So macho. Bet the girls will like it.” 

Anger roared in her veins, her nails digging into her palms. “I don’t find this funny at all,” she said flatly. 

Harry suddenly coughed, she handed him a conjured napkin which he dabbed to his mouth. When he pulled it away, it was glistening with blood. “Healer Lucy said it would do that - the tentacle poisoned some of my blood.” Noting her expression, he added quickly, “But I am on cleansing potions, it will be alright.”

She sighed, running her hand over his cheeks and jaw - the only uninjured parts of him. “Why didn’t you inform anyone? The DMLE? Your Auror partner? Frankly, they should fire him for his sheer incompetence in keeping you uninjured.” 

“I thought I could handle it.” He closed his eyes, his mouth a little lopsided. 

An array of thoughts went through her head, her heart begging her to release them but all Hermione did was inhale sharply. “I see.” 

She received a snore in response, his face puckering as a particularly deep breath probably hurt him. Her face crumpled, she slowly loosened her fingers from his but his grip tightened. “Don’t go,” he mumbled, peeking at her before falling asleep again. 

She stayed until her hand went numb. 

* * *

“How can an Auror - not just any Auror but a fully _trained_ Auror that only defeated the darkest wizard of our time, be so stupid that he decides to venture into a cursed manor owned by a Death Eater, alone?” Hermione was crossly standing at the foot of the hospital bed, her face was lined with dark shadows, her hair straggly as she tapped her foot on the floor. 

Harry grimaced, reaching up to pat his hair before he remembered his head was wrapped in gauze and bandages. “Have you met me?” he answered weakly. 

She stroked his forehead, brushing her fingers against his cheek. “I have.” Anger poured into her veins, her head, her heart and before she could say something she would regret, she plucked up the tray of potions, sponges and swabs the nurse was fussing with. 

“I’ll do it,” she said. The nurse left, appearing relieved because Harry had been in his famous shout-y mode when she had tried to heal him. 

She sat on the bed, the tray balanced on the table besides. With a flick of her wand, his hospital gown came undone. Hermione had to stifle a gasp; deep angry bruises marred his chest and stomach while sparse scratches and nicks also decorated his skin. Previous old scars from various skirmishes, battles and years were also visible - a warrior body. She first healed those, watching the skin knit together before reaching for the tray. 

“You are an idiot.”

“You tell me every time,” he smiled at her but received no response except for her frown. Sighing, he stared at the ceiling. 

Drenching a sponge in a potion marked for deep muscle healing, she pressed it to his stomach. His face turned white, his uninjured hand fisted so tight, she thought the knuckle might snap. “Why do you do this?” 

“I am an Auror.” He was blinking rapidly as she traced the length of one bruise with her sponge; a deep green colour on his skin. He shivered when she pressed her hand to the potion-applied area, assessing for any untended trauma. 

“You know what I mean,” she said. “Ron isn’t here every few weeks, injured beyond comprehension.”

Harry was quiet. She was rubbing the sponge in circles, feeling the tension leave his body when she stilled - a sudden thought that occurred to her. She brushed his face again with the back of her knuckles.

“She won’t come back. No matter what you do.” Her voice was low as she pressed the sponge to his chest. Beads of green ran down his stomach as she sponged his pectorals, his nipples tightening in response to the cold sensation. 

He jerked, his eyes flashing angrily. “Don’t you think I know that?” 

“Really? Because from my end, it seems like attention-seeking tactics.” 

Harry laughed but there was no trace of humour in it. “You know nothing.”

“You’re right, I don’t. All I know is that every few weeks, I have to listen to the news that my best friend is gravely injured. All I know is that every few weeks, I am in the damn room outside waiting to hear if you’ve succumbed to your injuries. All I know is that-” she choked, tears springing to her eyes. She took a moment to compose herself before slowly caressing the sponge across his taut chest. 

“I am sorry.” 

“If you were, you’d stop doing this.” _To us,_ she wanted to say.

“I can’t.” His shoulders slumped, his eyes closing when the movement hurt him. She finished healing his chest, the bruises had lost their dark colours and were fading. She reached for a balm, rubbing it between her hands before slowly kneading his upper body. She massaged it deeply, hoping it would sink in completely and his skin would return to its usual colour. 

Harry groaned. “When did you learn to heal?”

“When I learned my best friend has no impulse control and is reckless to the point of hurtling into death.”

“You don’t get it, Hermione. I’m the Chosen One. I need to be able to fight for everyone else.”

“You haven’t been the Chosen One since Voldemort’s death. You can’t keep fighting for everyone at the cost of your own life.” Her voice was steady but she felt so tired and frayed. Harry had no consideration for his life. 

He was quiet for so long that she thought he fell asleep. She was vanishing the colours from the various potions that had stained her hands when he spoke, his voice subdued. “What do I do then?” 

“You live.” _For me, with me,_ she wanted to add but didn’t. “Please, Harry. You need to live.”

"I am," he said softly. He held her hand until he fell asleep. 

* * *

The door to the ward crashed open and Hermione stalked inside. Her entire body was trembling, her face white, her hair crackling with magic and rage. 

“Oh, I thought I recognised your voice,” said Harry lightly. His face was deathly pale and sweaty, the bones of his collarbone sticking out. “The healer was convinced it was a banshee out there.”

“Shut up,” she snarled. Her face was deeply lined, her hands shaking as she tentatively touched his jaw before clutching at his hand. “How did an idiot like you even become an Auror?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I only defeated the darkest wizard of our time.” 

“Do you know what everyone went through? We thought you were killed! You were trapped for a week. _A week where I thought you died,”_ she gripped his arm tightly.

“But I didn’t. I’ve escaped death too many times to even count now.” His attempt at humour made her glower, she enveloped him in a gentle hug, her hands holding him so carefully as if she was afraid she would break him. Harry gripped her, his body sinking into her touch. 

“Shut up, shut up. I have half a mind to quit my job and join your team because clearly, no one else can keep you alive.” 

“I’m fine-”

“Don’t say that you are fine,” she snapped, her hair whipped him as she stood, her chest heaving rapidly. 

“But I’m fine-”

“Stop saying that you are fine. You are not fine! You haven’t been fine!” She was pacing now, her hair as unruly and tangled as ever. “You haven’t been fine since the war. I told Kingsley! I told him to not let you jump to being an Auror so quickly and now he gets to see why.” She threw her hand towards him, gesturing to his state of being. 

“What do you mean not let me be an Auror?” he demanded. 

Hermione’s lips twisted in a grimace. “You haven’t yet processed and healed from the war. You are going around, throwing yourself into missions, following every single impulse and suicidal idea that your brain comes up with and ending up at the hospital!” 

Harry was stunned, gazing at her as she continued pacing and muttering under her breath. “I- I don’t have suicidal ideas.”

“Harry! Are you even aware of the last two months? Or has your brain become permanently concussed from the number of times you’ve been hit in the head?” She suddenly looked at him, her expression so pinched he thought she’d cry. 

“It’s my job,” he said quietly. 

“It is not your job! You have done more than enough through the years. I am stunned they keep letting you in on missions instead of forcing you to take a few months off because-”

“There’s nothing else for me,” he whispered. “I don’t know what else to do.” 

Hermione paused, slowly taking his hand and sitting beside him. “Please, please, I am begging you to quit. Please move on from this dangerous idea that the only thing you can do is hunt dark things. That is not all of you, it’s such a small part of you. You’re more than that.” She sniffed once, adding her other hand over his. “You need to heal, you need to let your mind and scars heal. You need to rest. If you don’t then one day I am afraid you will die.” She stood, wrenching her hands from his. “And I don’t want to stick around to see you do that. Please don’t make me see that. I don’t want to see you throw away your life with no care or consideration for others around you.”

“Hermione-”

She held up a hand. “I’ve seen you more in hospitals than outside, these past few months. Please, Harry. If you don’t value your life then please value our- our friendship. I’ve kept you alive too long to give up so easily now.” 

She stared at him hopefully, wringing her hands together. “You don’t need to be a hero anymore. We have teams of brilliant and competent wizards who can handle anything. I don’t have another you.” 

Harry avoided her gaze. “I think you should go,” he said softly. 

Her shoulders slumped. She reached for him once, brushing his forehead with her hand and pressing her lips against his head. _I love you._

He paled. “What-?”

She was already gone, leaving Harry to ponder over the last few months and if he was being honest, years of his life. 

* * *

It was a few months later that she was alerted of an injured Harry Potter admitted in St. Mungo’s. She had assumed he’d removed her as his emergency contact. Hermione strode inside the room so familiar now that it felt like a regular part of her own flat now. 

Harry was lying in bed, a petulant expression on his face. He was not visibly injured, she noted with relief. “It’s just a concussion,” he said in a dull voice. 

“No need to sound so gloomy about it.” She hesitated before lightly placing a hand on his forehead, brushing the fringe aside. 

“I know you are secretly checking my temperature,” he accused but he had a small smile on his face. “You can go back to work,” he added, noting her formal robes. “They’re keeping me for observation.”

She pursed her lips before shrugging. “I’m already here.” Seating herself on a chair, she scooted near him, retrieving her case file from her briefcase. 

“It’s not about Ginny.” His low voice interrupted her reading after awhile. “I- I haven’t thought about her since we split.” Absent-mindedly, he reached for her hand and she wound her fingers through his. Neither of them spoke of the last time they were in this room, her silent confession. 

He choked out a laugh. “You were right. I- I was struggling with myself since the war. I thought to throw myself into my job that maybe it will help me find my purpose again.” He lifted a shoulder. “But even that wasn’t enough. I just felt so _incomplete_. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a child soldier - you keep looking for war. I was still carrying it on.” 

He took a deep breath. “I am going to try to - process and heal. Move on. I think it’s time. I am sorry for not seeing it before.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you but...someone needed to. Otherwise, you’d be dead,” she said quietly, her hand tightening its hold. 

He squeezed her hand. “I am glad it was you.” He paused. “I'm sorry for all those times you were out there, not knowing whether I'm alive. I am sorry for making you worried.”

“It kind of feels like my job now,” she said lightly, brushing his hair back. “How did you get a concussion?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I was seeing my mind-healer here. I tripped over a man’s foot - it was accidentally transfigured into a log actually, crashed into the wall and a pot fell on me.” 

“Not an Auror-related incident?’ 

“I quit...the day you told me you loved me,” he met her gaze. He lightly brushed his hand across her cheek, settling it on her jaw. “I love you too.” 

Hermione brushed her thumb against his mouth, his tongue grazing the pad of it. “No more suicidal missions? Death wishes?” 

“None.” His tone was firm, his expression serious. 

“Bare fighting demons? Going missing for a week because you fell into a covering in a cave infested by vampires?”

Harry pretended to consider it, smiling. “Definitely not.”

“What are you going to do with all your time then?” she mused. 

“I have a few things in mind,” he captured his lips with her, placing a hand on her back to tug her closer. She wrapped her arms around him, moulding him to her. 

Hermione was sure she felt her magic - usually crackling in her hair - dancing out between them, wrapping them in a safe cocoon. When they were leaving, a few Healers openly cried happily that Harry Potter would not be coming back. 


End file.
